


Lucid Dreaming

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Flash Forward, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Injury, Injury Recovery, Intervention, Kissing, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Near Future, Unintentional drug use, future relationship, prison break - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 11:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11289807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Thanks to one of Ra's al Ghul's mystical needles, Ed and Oswald get an unintentional yet intriguing glimpse of their future selves.As per a request from @marvelousouatwhoHope you all enjoy!





	Lucid Dreaming

‘We don’t exactly have time for window shopping’, Ed deadpanned as he twiddled his lockpick and cursed as he made another error.  
He took a deep breath and slowed down, paying proper attention to the task at hand.

‘Well it’s not like we’re going anywhere soon at the rate you’re picking that lock’, Oswald said.

Ed scowled at him over his shoulder. Oswald ignored him, preferring to continue browsing through the Court’s collection. They had found their way into some kind of treasure horde with display cases showcasing various valuable gems and other such antiques.  
Ed rolled his eyes at the covetous expression on Oswald’s face.  
Maybe he was more of a magpie than a penguin.  
At least it would keep him occupied until Ed could get the door open.  
Logically it couldn’t be that much further to the exit and so far their escape from the Court of Owls’ prison appeared to have gone unnoticed.  
Ed heard a rewarding click and sighed in relief as the lock finally gave way.

‘Thank heaven for small mercies’, he whispered as he stood.

Turning, he saw an ornate looking set of acupuncture needles on a nearby desk, nestled in a red velvet lined box.  
He glanced over to where Oswald was bent over examining a display case full of strange looking amulets placed side by side. Irrationally irritated by the fact Oswald had missed him unlocking the door faster than he had expected, he selected one of the needles. He turned it in his fingers and admired both the oriental marking at the base and the way it gleamed coldly in the dim light of the room.  
Taking care to mask the noise of his footfalls, he childishly jabbed Oswald’s backside with it to get his attention.

 

Ed felt a bizarre, wrenching feeling and his vision blurred. He shook his head to dispel the odd dizziness as Oswald yelped and spun on his heel.

‘So that’s how it is?!’ Oswald growled, grabbing Ed’s shirt, ‘I’m kind of grateful: I was getting bored of this little truce too!’

‘Oswald-‘ Ed began, looking around as if dazed.

‘I got something a little bigger than a needle remember?’ Oswald snarled, mistaking Ed’s widened eyes for worry at the shiv Oswald had just pressed to his neck, ‘And I’m going to-‘

‘Oswald!’

‘What?!’

‘Look’, Ed said, nodding over his head.

Oswald was about to retort angrily that he wasn’t about to fall for such a mundane distraction but Ed’s focused stare behind him silenced him. Ed was far too intelligent to resort to such a base ruse.  
Looking around as he turned, Oswald also realised they were no longer standing in the Court’s prison.

The office was richly decorated in shades of blue and white. They could hear muted noises of what sounded like a party somewhere nearby and the undertone of pulsing music. Oswald recognised the ambient sounds of a packed bar and saw a sign on a nearby wall. It was framed in a glass case and pictured an iceberg illuminated by neon words beneath it: ‘The Iceberg Lounge’.

‘Is-is this a nightclub?’ Oswald asked, ‘What-what did you do?!’

Ed looked at the needle in his palm, shaking his head but, hearing a shuffling noise, gaped at the source. Oswald followed Ed’s line of vision and when his own eyes fell on the figure sitting behind an expensive looking mahogany desk, his jaw dropped.

‘You look…different’, Ed said with a snide smile, looking at the same figure.

Oswald despite his shock couldn’t help but think ‘different’ was a generous term. The figure behind the desk was definitely him but older and fatter. It seemed his rich diet and fondness for alcohol had taken its toll on his future self. He also appeared to have taken up smoking, chewing on a cigarette holder as he examined a pile of paperwork (the source of the shuffling noise) in yellowed fingers.  
His heavier form made his resemblance to a penguin even more uncanny.  
Were they in the future somehow?  
Oswald fervently hoped not.

The disturbing sight was made easier for Oswald however when he saw someone come into the office.

He gave an unpleasant laugh as he instantly identified the figure as Ed.

‘And you somehow got even more pathetic’, Oswald bristled, ‘Looks like someone finally gave you what you deserved’.

This time, it was Ed’s turn to look aghast as he watched his ‘future’ counterpart come into the office proper.

Instead of the sharp green suit he had begun to favour, he was shocked to see the dishevelled future Riddler was wearing a filthy pale green overshirt over a grubby white shirt, jeans and heavy work boots. A pair of welding googles were strapped over his grimy hair and several oil stains on his clothing gave him the look of a mechanic. But the discrepancy between his favoured clothing style now and this was not the most unsettling thing about his future self to Ed. It was his eyes: red raw and accentuated by dark shadows that suggested long term insomnia. One was swollen nearly shut by a large, vivid, purple bruise.

The observers watched Riddler stalk to the desk and fold his arms as he halted just in front of it.  
The Penguin carefully placed the paperwork into a waiting folder and clasped his hands together like a headmaster about to scold a disreputable pupil.

‘Eddie, we need to talk’, Penguin said evenly.

Ed and Oswald shared a confused glance at the Penguin’s informal address for Riddler.

‘Could’ve done that over the phone’, Riddler replied with obvious irritation, ‘What’s so important I had to leave the workshop?’

Penguin got up and went to a drinks cabinet set into the wall and took out two glasses. He began to pour some scotch into them.

‘I did phone the workshop. I have now left six voicemails and you haven’t answered a single one’.

‘I’m in the middle of a delicate stage in construction and I don’t have time for a drink!’ Riddler protested, slamming a hand on the table, ‘What is this about? You don’t need to check up on me!’

‘I’m worried about you Eddie’.

‘Why?! Things’re going great! I’ve nearly completed the preliminary circuitry and once I’ve run a few more diagnostics I can-‘

‘What happened to your hand?’ Penguin asked, eyes narrowing as he saw Riddler wave a hand in excitement.

Riddler regarded the stained bandage as if he had no idea how it had gotten there.

‘Just a scratch. Happened…Tuesday? About two or three days ago?’

‘This is what I’m talking about. It _is_ Tuesday’.

‘You know I can get wrapped up in my work’, Riddler said, crossing his arms once more to hide his damaged hand, ‘And this is important’.

‘I know it is’, Penguin said quietly, swirling his drink around before taking a sip.

‘But?’ Riddler prompted, fingers drumming on his arm.

‘Is it more important than your health?’ Penguin asked gently, ‘This isn’t ‘work’. This is obsession. I’m worried about you’.

Penguin offered him the full glass and this time, Riddler took it, cowed by Penguin’s concern.

‘I know you are’, he said gently, downing the drink, ‘Sorry’.

Penguin took Riddler’s damaged hand gently and examined it. Pulling open a drawer on the desk, he took out a small bottle of antibacterial cleaner and a clean roll of bandages. Riddler let Penguin clean and change his wound dressing, smiling gratefully as he checked the flexibility of his fingers in the dressing.

Neither Ed or Oswald knew what to make of Penguin’s concerned attentiveness or Riddler’s acceptance of his aid.  
They were supposed to be enemies!  
Did this sight mean that would pass?  
How?!

‘I’m also sorry I haven’t been home these last few nights’, Riddler spoke again, ‘But I just need you to trust me a little longer. I can handle this'.

'But you don't have to!'

'But I want to. Because I’m doing it for you. Every time that chiropteran thug demands information from you or looks down on you, my blood just boils! Just think…’

The Riddler surprised both Ed and Oswald by lightly touching Penguin’s face with his undamaged hand, his fingers stroking his cheek in an intimate gesture. It was even more surprising to see Penguin lean into it, his pale cheeks colouring at the contact.

‘When I’m finished with him’, Riddler continued, in a husky voice, ‘you’ll have the Bat’s head mounted on your wall and the man who defeated him on your arm’.

Penguin gave a twisted smile at Riddler’s words and his gleaming, covetous eyes met Riddler’s as he finished his drink.

‘Unless you would prefer me somewhere else?’ Riddler concluded, licking his lips lasciviously.

Without warning, Penguin kissed Riddler deeply on the mouth, discarding the empty glass unconcernedly onto the soft rug. The Riddler responded with enthusiasm, his hands grasping Oswald’s neck to draw him closer.

Oswald glanced sideways at Ed, simultaneously shocked and strangely aroused by their unintended voyeurism. Ed was watching their dopplegangers’ passion play out with a strange expression that Oswald couldn’t place. He noted with simultaneous relish and regret that it was not one of disgust. Not for the first time, thoughts of what might have been had he been honest about his feelings from the start crowded his mind.

‘When was the last time you had a shower?’ Penguin laughed as he broke off the kiss making an exaggerated disgusted face.

‘What’s the matter Ozzie?’ Riddler asked teasingly, as he discarded his stained overshirt, ‘Afraid to get dirty?’

‘I believe I might be convinced…’ Penguin said, tickling the stubble on Riddler’s chin coquettishly.

‘Hey, I convinced you about the giant robot’, Riddler replied, ‘I can be very… _persuasive’._

Riddler got down on his knees and began to undo the Penguin’s belt and fly. Penguin gave a quiet, knowing chuckle, fingers taking hold of the Riddler’s hair.

Ed, not noticing how tight he had been gripping the needle, gasped in pain as the needle suddenly snapped from the pressure and pricked his palm.  
He dropped it instinctively as the vision vanished into a dark void that swallowed them both.  
Both onlookers watched their future selves until the very last moment.

 

Ed blinked as he recognised his surroundings: he and Oswald were back in the Court’s hideout.

‘What the Hell was that?!’ Oswald demanded, giving Ed an angry punch on the arm. For being the cause of the erotic scene they had just witnessed as well as the fact they were no longer witnessing it.  
The Riddler’s compromising position at the end of the scene had been rather…intriguing to him.

‘The needle must have been coated with a hallucinogenic substance’, Ed mused.

He tried to ignore how the remains of the needle on the floor were glowing green as it began to dissolve.  
What the heck was the needle made of to react like that?!  
And what had his future self meant by ‘giant robot’?!

‘Then why did we see the exact same thing?!’ Oswald retorted, apparently disinterested in the seemingly mystical properties of the needle.

‘There’s such a thing as a shared hallucination’, Ed said after a noticeable hesitation.

From Oswald’s expression, Ed knew he didn’t buy his theory. Ed didn’t blame him.

‘Well, whatever… _that_ was’, Oswald said, cheeks colouring at the memory, ‘We should ignore it and get back to finding a way out of here’. 

He pointedly stepped on the final miniscule glowing pieces of the snapped needled and ground his foot as if he were stamping out a cigarette.

_‘Without_ any more souvenirs’, he concluded pointedly, pushing past Ed.

‘And we _never_ speak of what we saw again’, Ed added without emotion, ‘To each other or anyone’.

Oswald halted in the doorway. He thought about retorting: drawing attention to the fact that Ed had watched the spectacle as long as he had but decided against it. What would be the point? It wasn’t as if he was going to be thinking about it later!

‘Speak about what?’ Oswald asked, in an identically emotionless voice.

Ed nodded, accepting Oswald’s feigned obliviousness as agreement and followed him out.

Both tried to focus on the task ahead and whatever things they hated about each other, rather than the treacherous, sad longing curdling in their stomachs as they both replayed the events of the hallucination over and over in their heads.


End file.
